


Exposed

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years after leaving Runway, Andy Sachs runs into her infamous former boss while undercover for a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposed

Andy Sachs leaned back against the wall of the elevator, staring down at what she'd just written in her notepad.

 

_~~Andy~~ Andrea Sachs, Junior Features Editor of the New York Mirror. _

 

Well, she wasn't quite there yet, but Andy was only one big story away from snatching that beautiful new title out from under Susan Suarez's nose. After pouring blood, sweat, and tears into four years of back-breaking work at the paper, Andy had damn well earned that new title. She could already smell the fresh cardstock and ink of the new business cards she'd have printed.

 

All she needed was one big story to push her over the top, and that night she was going to get it.

 

She hiked her thigh-highs up a little higher and readjusted her dress, making sure that her cleavage was a little more visible. She flipped her hair a little and practiced her best "come hither" smile in the reflection of the elevator doors. On the surface, Andy looked the part that she was playing, but she knew that beneath the caked on makeup and tight clothes that she was still herself, still just Andy the nerd from Ohio.

 

She rolled her eyes at herself.

 

When Suarez rejected the undercover piece about escorts, Andy jumped at it. It didn't matter so much that she had been second choice. In her eyes, the only reason Suarez had been chosen in the first place was because she looked the part more than Andy did. For Andy, this would be an opportunity that wouldn't be wasted. She would write the pants off of the story…so to speak.

 

The chill in the elevator reminded Andy how little she was actually wearing. She didn’t necessarily _look_ like an escort. She looked as though she were attending a cocktail party. The dress was simple and black, cut mid-thigh and showing a decent amount of cleavage, but not enough to make her look like a whore.

 

_Whore._ The word flashed in her mind and she wondered what taking this assignment actually made her. Even now, only several days in, Andy had begun to question what that word even meant.

 

When she got in with the escort agency, she was surprised at how seedy it _wasn’t_. It was surprisingly respectable. She’d befriended a girl, Lucia, who gave her the dish on her rich, famous clientele. To Andy’s shock, Lucia had nothing negative to say about her job. In her eyes, it was better than walking the streets. She’d been given the lucky break that so many other women hadn’t.

 

Andy had fully anticipated giving a negative slant to her exposé but now, as the elevator dinged at the arrival of her floor, she wasn’t so sure what she’d do. She loved that about her job – she loved the thrill of being informed, of learning, of watching her ideas evolve. It made her feel like a grown up. It made her feel like she was finally on the path she had always meant to be on. She’d never learned these life lessons working at a fashion magazine.

 

Andy brushed the thoughts of _Runway_ aside with a smile and glanced down at her notebook again, reminding herself that her client had an event to attend in the hotel’s exclusive restaurant and that Andy should wait in the room until he had arrived. There were also specific instructions for Andy to change into whatever the client had made available for her.

 

She held her keycard over the slot above the door handle and felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. What if his event had ended early? What if he was already on the other side of the door? She wouldn’t be able to back out as soon as she stepped inside.

 

She looked again at her notebook, at the title she was sure to earn, and stuffed the pad back into her clutch. Taking a deep breath, she slipped the card into the slot and pushed the door open.

 

The light was off and Andy sighed with relief, taking comfort in the fact that she could still bail if she completely chickened out.

 

Her skin prickled as she caught sight of the corseted lingerie that was draped at the foot of the bed. Suddenly it felt _real_.

 

What would happen once she donned the sexy lingerie? Once her client appeared? How far was she actually willing to go for the sake of her story?

 

She set her purse on the little table by the door and stepped further into the room, wondering if this counted as being morally questionable since it was for the sake of her job. Vice cops did it all the time, going undercover as prostitutes in hopes of nabbing their perpetrators. Andy felt wrong comparing herself to them: they had a badge and she had a pen. She didn’t have the legal immunity in this situation should she decide not to go through with the actual sex stuff. There would be no covert arrest. There would simply be a woman denying a man what he had been prepared to pay for.

 

That thought made her even more nervous. What happened to the women who decided they couldn’t go through with it? Did the johns ever get angry? That had been the story she expected to find.

 

And what if she did go through with it after all? What if she was attracted to her client? What if he treated her well and paid well?

 

She sat at the edge of the bed, dragging long, low breaths into her lungs. She never thought that she’d be in this position, that she’d ever actually consider objectifying herself for the sake of some stupid job. She’d always put her pride and her views first—that’s why she left _Runway_ in the first place. What had happened to her over the years that she now considered exchanging sex for money for the sake of a few thousand words?

 

Andy knew that her options were limited. She needed an edge to put her in the forefront for the promotion. She’d been passed over once before and she’d be damned if it happened again.

 

Besides, Andy conceded that if she _did_ have sex with him, she could always donate the money to a women’s shelter and try to help out the hundreds of nameless, faceless women who truly had no options. It wasn’t like she could _keep_ the money. And the donating thing was something she’d wanted to do for a while but had never had the means. Maybe this was a good thing after all, a twisted blessing in disguise.

 

She wasn’t entirely sure if donating her money would absolve the guilt or the shame, but Andy had committed to this assignment and knew that she wouldn’t back out now.

 

With a few deep, fortifying breaths, Andy decided to carry on with her job. She reached for the corset lying beside her, eyeing the matching panties beside it. It was, by the looks of it, Agent Provocateur. The black corset was strapless and made of rich satin. She could feel the boning contouring the seams and could already imagine them accentuating the hourglass shape of her figure. There were clasps in the front, starting between the demi-cups and ending at the bottom, where the detachable garters dangled teasingly. Andy was glad that she had worn the black lace thigh-highs; they would match perfectly. The back of the corset, she noticed, was accentuated with lacings.

 

Andy had to give her client credit: he certainly had an eye for women’s lingerie.

 

She looked once more at the door and then at the corset in her hands. She could stay or she could go.

 

She made her decision and reached for the zipper of her dress.

 

The corset fit remarkably well. After hooking the final garter to her stocking and securing the bow that tied the other half of her panties together, Andy grabbed one of the hotel’s plush cotton robes. She luxuriated in the feel of the cotton against her bare shoulders and as she hung up her dress, she hoped it would be all right if she were caught off guard by her client while wearing it. It would certainly allow for the element of surprise if she could undress for him.

 

She tried to ignore the shiver of excitement that coursed down her spine at the thought.

 

Andy slipped back into her sleek black Manolo Blahniks, wincing slightly as they pinched her feet, and began to look around the hotel room. From what she could see, there was nothing belonging to her client to be found. She checked the drawers and closet, peeked into the bathroom, and frowned. She even scoped out the bottle of champagne (a 1998 bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé) that was chilling on the side of the room. She’d hoped that she’d be able to find _something_ to distinguish the man who had so specifically asked for her.

 

Andy found the whole process slightly awkward. Atypical of most agencies, the one for which Andy “worked” did not advertise in such an open manner. This fact relieved her. Because it catered to upscale clientele, Andy’s picture was not circulated amongst a website or a catalogue. This particular agency was run by a lesbian couple who dealt exclusively by phone, taking specific requests from hair and eye color down to waist size. She’d felt a little strange at her “fitting” but appreciated the privacy that accompanied it.

 

Knowing that her client had picked her specifically based on his preferred physical characteristics made her glow inside. It was nice, for once, to feel wanted. She’d always felt a little out of place— _Runway_ had glorified that insecurity—and now…she felt a little like a princess. Pretty Woman indeed.

 

Andy took another peek around the room. She knew there’d be nothing to tell her whether her client was handsome or famous, kind or rough. She thought of the banquet going on downstairs and wondered which of its guests held the matching key to this very room.

 

Andy’s expectations were conflicted. She didn’t know whether to _want_ a rich, famous client or not. She knew if she recognized him immediately that she’d have a better shot at a juicy story, but what then? She’d be betraying someone for the sole purpose of advancing her career. Sure, that’s what people wanted to read about: corrupt politicians having illicit affairs. A surge of guilt burned in her stomach. Could she really betray someone’s privacy in such an invasive way? And what if she _did_ sleep with him? What if he fought back and told everyone the details of their encounter? Could she expect that her reputation would remain untarnished?

 

Andy groaned aloud and curled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She needed, for once, to stop thinking. Thinking wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

 

As she closed her eyes and attempted to clear her mind, she heard footsteps in the hall. Her heart leapt into her throat and a sudden wave of nausea overcame her. She whipped off her robe and draped it carefully at the edge of the bed, deciding not to risk upsetting her client by its presence. She sat on the bed, fluffed her hair, and held her breath when the footsteps ceased outside of the door. The keycard was inserted and Andy’s head spun.

 

Andy’s expectations crumpled the minute she saw a flash of silver slip through the door. Her mouth dropped. Standing at the door, mirroring Andy’s exact expression, stood Miranda Priestly.

 

“You!?” Miranda shrieked, eyes wide. She slammed the door shut behind her and flung her Birkin at the little table. She snapped the keycard beside it.

 

Andy jumped up. “ _You!?”_

 

Color rose to Miranda’s cheeks as her eyes quickly scanned Andy’s appearance. She cleared her throat.

 

Andy’s face burst into flame as she reached for the robe, quickly covering her body. “I…this can’t… _you?!_ ” Andy repeated, twisting the halves of the robe tightly across her body. She fumbled with the tie and stared at it pointedly as she tugged it into a knot.

 

Miranda’s lips pursed, her eyebrows creasing together. “So this is what you’ve done with yourself since you’ve left my employ?” She chuckled derisively. “How the mighty have fallen.”

 

“Hey!” Andy cried, her face burning brighter than ever. “I’m not…this isn’t what you… _wait a minute_ – _you_ are the one who hired _me_!”

 

“And you are the one the agency sent.” Miranda moved across the room and leaned against the arm of a chair in the corner. She folded her arms over her chest and stared imploringly at Andy.

 

Andy gave a nervous laugh. “But I’m not an escort.”

 

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Evidence would suggest the contrary.”

 

“No, no,” Andy said, wondering why she considered it so imperative that Miranda believe her. “I’m undercover. I’m writing an exposé.”

 

“Oh, I see. Once again you are _too good_ to lower yourself and are, instead, attempting to expose the big, bad elite for the filthy perverts we are?”

 

“What? No…Miranda, I…I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

 

“And yet your shock upon seeing that I was your client tells me that, in fact, you do.”

 

Andy sat on the bed and promptly stood back up. “I just expected a man, that’s all. I didn’t think…”

 

Miranda was quiet for a moment. “Women have needs too.”

 

“Yea, but…I’m a..” And then it hit Andy like a freight train and all the heat that had left her body upon her mortification of seeing her former boss returned, spreading across the pit of her belly. “Oh. Wow. So you’re into—“

 

“Do _not_ judge me,” Miranda snapped warningly, her eyes cold.

 

“I’m not judging you, Miranda. There’s nothing wrong with liking girls…”

 

“Oh I’m so very relieved to have your approval,” Miranda drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

 

Andy snorted and shook her head. “You could have anyone you wanted and you choose to pay for it? That surprises me. You don’t peg me as the type to—“

 

“I’m not a _type_ that you can analyze, Andrea,” Miranda replied, standing now. She stepped closer to Andy, making her feel as though she were being predatorily stalked. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

 

Andy shivered where she stood, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She remembered this terror, these nerves, from her tenure at _Runway_. Even after all these years, it amazed her that Miranda still could render her into a babbling, stuttering fool. Andy forced herself to remember that she had grown up, that she was not the same insecure girl that fetched her coffee and did her bidding. She was better than that now. “And yet, here you are,” Andy replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

Miranda pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring slightly at Andy’s challenge. “Discretion,” Miranda began softly, “is everything. And it seems like that will have been fruitless since I will be exposed anyway.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that…not to you.”

 

“Loyalty? From _you_? Forgive me if I’m not inclined to believe you given your track record.”

 

“I didn’t have a choice! I had to leave.” Andy could feel her defenses rise and dug her nails into her palms once more.

 

“You had a choice. We always have a choice.”

 

“I _didn’t_ , Miranda. I couldn’t continue to do that anymore—“

 

“So you _chose_ to leave.” The look on Miranda’s face registered satisfaction as her words struck a chord with Andy. “And tell me, Andrea: had I been a handsome man, would you have chosen to sleep with me?”

 

Andy squared her shoulders. “I don’t know. I hadn’t decided yet.”

 

Miranda tucked her tongue in her cheek and tilted her head, her eyes roving Andy’s face. She tsked. “You’d have done it. You wouldn’t have had much of an exposé without all of the gory details.”

 

Andy blushed hard, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with Miranda when all she wanted to do was run. “We do what we have to do for the job, I guess. I want a promotion at work so I consider sleeping with a stranger, while you want to fuck girls without getting heat from the public so you hire a fancy prostitute.” She preened at her brazen response and straightened her back, placing her hands on her hips. _Take that_!

 

“And to think you judged me for making sacrifices for my job.”

 

“You sold out Nigel for your own benefit!”

 

“And you would have sold yourself. Perhaps you already have.” She gave Andy another long once-over as if to surmise whether or not Andy had recently been laid for money.

 

Andy clamped her teeth into the soft flesh of her inner-cheek, imploring herself not to balk under Miranda’s truthful scrutiny. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t.”

 

“I would have been your first. How poetic.”

 

Andy was beginning to hate her body for responding so easily to her former boss. Her stomach clenched tightly and she could feel the perspiration, damp and hot, on the back of her neck. She wanted to hide under the bed when she realized that she was slightly turned on by the conversation.

 

“And how very disappointing for you,” Miranda added.

 

“Disappointing for _me_?” Andy crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Miranda’s stance, and stepped closer. “How about disappointing for _you_ to realize that you’d been sent _me_?” Another thought occurred to her, and she pressed on.  “And how very _intriguing_ that you requested someone who fit my exact physical description.” She quirked an eyebrow and stared her down, delighting in the way that color rose to Miranda’s cheeks. Andy silently rejoiced at having caught Miranda off-guard and held her breath as she waiting for whatever reply would be issued from the silver-haired woman’s mouth.

 

“You are a beautiful woman,” Miranda said plainly.

 

Whatever Andy had been expecting, that hadn’t been it. “Oh.” When Miranda offered no other explanation, Andy lamely replied, “So are you.”

 

Miranda’s lips quirked into the ghost of a smile. “Tell me, Andrea: if you hadn’t been my employee and hadn’t already decided that you disliked me, would you have slept with me?”

 

Andy choked on the words in her throat, not knowing how to respond. Suddenly the image of them tangled together, sweaty and panting, made her feel decidedly more uneasy. She’d enjoyed her moment of advantage and had even enjoyed the challenge that Miranda presented, but had not anticipated wanting to answer Miranda’s question affirmatively. “I don’t dislike you,” Andy said instead.

 

“That’s not what I asked you.”

 

“I don’t know,” Andy uttered helplessly. She knew that Miranda had little patience for weak, ineffectual answers, but it was better than the truth that her body was now clearly expressing. She ignored the steady throb between her legs ( _Oh God, Miranda would surely want her lingerie back, and the proof would be soaked into the fabric!)_ and, after clearing her throat, responded: “I honestly hadn’t considered the fact that my client could have been female. I don’t really know what I would have done in that situation…I mean…if it were to have happened for real.”

Miranda tsked again and circled around her. “What a close-minded approach to your article. Seems to me like you’d have more fodder with a female client…more to expose, so to speak.”

 

Andy blushed harder. “Well, like I said, it would have caught me off guard.”

 

Miranda stopped her prowl, standing closer to Andy than she would have liked. “And what makes you think that this transaction has been voided? I’ve already paid your fee with the agency. You belong to me tonight, Andrea.”

 

For the first time in years, Andy wished that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “I…what? Miranda…you can’t possibly want…”

 

“You’ve already made it abundantly clear that you have no idea what I want.”

 

Andy’s mouth drooped stupidly open and she quickly clamped it shut. How had she been reduced to this person, this girl that had worked so hard to grow up, in the span of less than an hour? She could feel her backbone melting, reducing to a puddle of useless goo at the small of her back. She could practically see her self-esteem running for the door.

 

No. Andy was _not_ that girl anymore. She was someone who deserved some goddamned respect. She always had—she just never had the gall to demand it. “Actually, Miranda,” Andy said, boldly staring her down. “You paid for my company. According to company policy, any extracurricular activities must be arranged with _me_. I belong to no one.”

 

Miranda’s eyebrows crept up her forehead in surprise. She chuckled. “So you’ve grown up after all.”

 

Andy squared her shoulders. “You better believe it. You can’t boss me around anymore unless I give you permission.”

 

“And for the right price…”

 

“I’m not so sure that you can afford me.” After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Andy laughed nervously. “Not that you’d actually want to, right? I mean…c’mon, Miranda.”

 

Miranda tapped her index finger thoughtfully upon her lip as her eyes flitted upon Andy’s form once again. “I’m not so sure I’d want to sleep with someone who wouldn’t respect me in the morning.”

 

Andy’s laugh shocked her. “As if you’d respect me! Or any girl…I’m sorry, Miranda, but you don’t even respect your assistants…what makes you think you’d respect a _prostitute_?”

 

“The situations are entirely different.”

 

“They really aren’t. Either way, you’re paying someone to do exactly what you want them to for your own personal gain. What do they get in return?”

 

“A paycheck,” Miranda said dryly.

 

Andy rolled her eyes.

 

“An assistant earns my respect if she adeptly performs the tasks she is given. An escort already has my respect.”

 

Andy actually burst into laughter at this, sitting on the edge of the bed while she howled and clutched at her stomach. “That’s…haha…that’s a good one! Miranda Priestly, respecting a whore. That’ll be the day!”

 

Miranda glared at Andy as if she meant to turn her to stone. Andy shuddered. “You have _no idea_ who I am, Andrea,” she said slowly, punctuating her words with a pointed finger. “You have no right to disrespect me.”

 

Properly chastised, Andy hunched her shoulders and looked up at her former boss. “I’m sorry. But jeez….c’mon…it doesn’t exactly fit your m.o.”

 

“Meeting an escort is not about controlling someone that you disrespect. Because you are above such things, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

 

“Well…so help me understand. Prove me wrong.”

 

Miranda was silent for a moment and Andy wondered if she would actually get a response. “Why do you think an escort deserves so little respect?”

 

“I don’t think…I mean, I just thought…” Andy was not about to repeat what she said about Miranda disrespecting escorts, so instead she said, “It’s just not a respectful job.”

 

“So let’s say that a woman _chooses_ to work for an escort agency and _chooses_ to sell her body in exchange for money; she isn’t deserving of respect?”

 

“She is!”

 

“Who has the power in this situation? The escort or the client?”

 

Andy chewed at the flesh of her inner cheek. “The client does. The client is paying and the client is ultimately in control. He…or she…decides what they want. It’s about _their_ pleasure.”

 

“Incorrect.”

 

“So…the escort then?”

 

“Also incorrect. The situation is mutually powerful.”

 

“Okay…you lost me there.”

 

“Money is powerful, as you have pointed out.”

 

Andy nodded dumbly.

 

“So is sex. Sexuality is a woman’s greatest asset. It is her greatest source of power, whether she is aware of it or not.”

 

“Hmm…” Andy bit her lip and pondered what Miranda was saying. She couldn’t deny that she had a point.

 

 “The client is willing to pay for what he or she cannot or will not, for whatever reason, get anywhere else.”

 

“So you’re saying…”

 

“It’s simply an exchange of power.”

 

“Huh. I never thought of it that way.”

 

“Hardly surprising.” Miranda tsked again. “How _were_ you planning to write this little article of yours? Appears to me like you’re grasping for straws.”

 

Andy shrugged helplessly. “I dunno. I guess I was just going to see what happened.”

 

“How professional.”

 

Andy stood and furrowed her brow. “Just because I didn’t come into this encounter with an outline of what I was going to write doesn’t make me unprofessional! I work pretty damn well under pressure in case you’ve forgotten. I can _do_ this.”

 

Miranda raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Perhaps you can. You’re certainly passionate about it.”

 

“I’m doing a job that I love. Why shouldn’t I be passionate about it?”

 

“And look where that passion brought you. Very appropriate.”

 

Andy rolled her eyes. “For the last time, Miranda, I didn’t seek out this assignment.”

 

“So you’ve said,” Miranda replied, a hint of amusement on her tongue. She crossed the room and reached for the bottle of champagne, her fingers deftly making quick work of uncorking the bottle. “I’m not going to let a perfectly good bottle of champagne go to waste,” Miranda said in response to Andy’s bemused expression.

 

Andy held up her hands. “By all means, enjoy it.” She watched as Miranda poured the pink liquid into two crystal glasses, oddly touched that Miranda would share with her.

 

“I shall.” Before Miranda offered Andy the second glass, she lifted her own to her lips and took a sip of the champagne, closing her eyes and sighing as she rolled the liquid around her tongue. Her cheeks were flushed when she extended the second glass to Andy. As Andy wrapped her fingers around the stem of the crystal flute, Miranda whispered, “I wouldn’t waste $350 champagne on someone I didn’t respect.”

 

Andy blushed hard at the comment, noting at once its double meaning. “Thank you, Miranda.” She took a sip, immediately enjoying the fizzy liquid. She savored the mouthful and smiled when she swallowed. “It’s delicious.”

 

“Mmm,” Miranda hummed in agreement, taking another sip. She stared wistfully in the direction of the bed. “My escort and I should have finished our champagne by now,” she admitted. She blinked and, realizing what she had just confessed, delicately cleared her throat.

 

“I really am sorry about messing up your night,” Andy said, her stomach flip-flopping at Miranda’s admission. The woman’s arousal was evident on her features and Andy realized that she had unintentionally ruined something that Miranda had clearly been looking forward to for a while.

 

Miranda remained quiet as she twirled the stem of her glass slowly within her fingers.

 

“I, uh, really appreciate what you told me though.”

 

Miranda raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

 

“You know…for being so…candid. I know you didn’t owe me any kind of explanation or anything and so I appreciate you being so…forthcoming.”

 

“It would appear I’ve made it into your exposé after all.”

 

“Well, I won’t use your name, of course,” Andy insisted. “But would you mind if I made use of the information you gave me? You can be…an anonymous informant.” At the sight of Miranda’s furrowed brow, Andy quickly added, “Please, Miranda. You’ve really helped me here…you saved my ass.”

 

“Imagine that.” Miranda covered her chuckle with a cough. “You’re still using me for the sake of your work.”

 

“I wouldn’t look at it that way,” Andy conceded with a grin. “Think of it as…you protecting my virtue. This way, if I use what you’ve told me, I won’t have to do this again and sleep with a stranger.” She laughed. “It’s a win-win situation for everyone!”

 

“It’s hardly a win for me,” Miranda drawled, “since I’m not getting what I paid for.”

 

“On the contrary,” Andy retorted, swiftly crossing the room for the notepad in her purse, “you’re getting _exactly_ what you paid for.” At Miranda’s raised eyebrow, she giggled. “My company.”

 

When Andy set down her glass of champagne and took up her notebook, she nearly skipped back to the bed at the sight of Miranda’s exaggerated eye roll. She sat and began to scribble furiously, recounting all of the details that Miranda had proffered. Her mind reeled with excitement; she knew exactly where she wanted to go with her article and even began to piece together her intro. She couldn’t wait to get home to her laptop so she could write and knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would be a sleepless night. When her wrist began to cramp, she noticed that Miranda hadn’t made a peep in several minutes. Andy looked up and caught Miranda’s stunned gaze. She followed it and realized when a surge of heat hit her face that her robe had dipped open and exposed the top of her corseted bust.

 

Miranda blinked, her eyes dark and cheeks flushed, before she mumbled, “Waste of perfectly good lingerie.”

 

Under the intensity of Miranda’s gaze, Andy felt naked. “You know, I was surprised at how well this fit.”

 

Miranda cleared her throat, her eyes unwavering as they studied the gap in the robe. “Yes. Well. I was specific in the type of woman I wanted.”

 

Andy blushed harder. “You certainly had, um, her body in mind.”

 

“It’s a shame that I won’t see it modeled on her.”

 

“Didn’t you see it when you came in? Before I put the robe on?”

 

“I was hardly paying attention.”

 

Andy took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had accidentally blue balled Miranda. “I could, if you wanted, show it to you again? Just so you can see how it looks? You can pretend I’m some supermodel or something.” Andy put the notepad aside and stood, her hands pausing on the tie of the robe. “I know it’s not the same thing, but it’s the least I can do.”

 

“Well,” Miranda replied, her voice having lost its wistful intonation, “I _do_ still own the lingerie.”

 

Andy’s mouth dropped slightly when Miranda sat down the chair, crossing her legs. Feeling like a stripper about to give a lap dance, Andy took a deep breath and pulled off the robe, allowing it to slink into a heap at her feet.

 

Andy considered for a moment how odd it was to be modeling lingerie for her former boss, but she admitted to the fact that this was a particularly strange circumstance. She placed her hands on her hips and watched as Miranda’s eyes slowly raked up her body, lingering on the kiss of the garter at her thighs, at the bows holding her panties together on her hips, at the swell of her breasts hidden behind immodest demi-cups. Miranda said nothing and only stared, as if committing the image to memory. Andy wondered what she was thinking, wondered if Miranda was disappointed or imagining someone else wearing her expensive lingerie.

 

Miranda flicked her tongue across her lower lip before catching Andy’s eyes with her own. “Pivot,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and throaty.

 

Andy could not deny the rush of arousal that hit her then at Miranda’s gaze. The sound of her voice, tainted by something that sounded awfully like lust, made Andy feel unsteady on her legs as she slowly began to turn her body. Andy wondered for the first time if this unique circumstance was getting to Miranda the same way it was getting to Andy. For all of Miranda’s regretful comments about her ruined evening, Andy had a hunch that Miranda wasn’t as disappointed as she let on.

 

At the sound of Miranda’s sharp exhale, Andy knew for certain that she had ruined the expensive panties.

 

Andy snuck a glance over her shoulder, her large eyes settling upon a _very_ distracted Miranda. Her eyelids fluttered as she shakily exhaled. She wished Miranda Priestly were easy to read; she’d give anything to know if _she_ was turning her on, or if simply the idea of a woman in next to nothing aroused her. She felt as thought she might buckle under the intense weight of Miranda’s gaze and gave a nervous laugh. “So, uh, there you have it. Not half bad for a journalist, huh?”

 

Miranda’s eyes swept over her once more as she took a significantly larger sip of champagne. “You clean up nicely.” Her voice was steady this time.

 

“Thanks.” Andy shuffled her feet. “So I’m just gonna put my robe back on. Or—I could go change in the bathroom…”

 

“Done so soon?” Miranda asked, standing up. She moved to refill her glass and pondered Andy for a moment. “Was that quick display really worth the money I spent?”

 

Andy exhaled sharply. “Jesus, Miranda. Whaddya want me to do, a damn jig?”

 

Miranda chuckled and stepped closer, reaching down to grab the robe. “Do you honestly think that was an equal exchange?”

 

Andy shook her head at Miranda’s incredulous comment. “Let’s get one thing straight, Miranda—I’m not your whore,” she replied, reaching for the robe.

 

Their hands met as Andy’s fist curled around the cotton. Their gazes locked and Andy could not contain a shiver as Miranda’s index finger passed over the back of her knuckles.

 

“I sincerely doubt that you are, Andrea.”

 

Andy swallowed, feeling as though all of the moisture in her body had headed south. “So what am I, Miranda?”

 

Andy knew that Miranda would avoid answering her question, but she had not expected that her evasion would come in the form of a kiss. She would have considered the fact that perhaps Miranda’s kiss _was_ the answer, but her brain ceased proper function at the moment their lips touched.

 

Miranda’s lips were soft, much softer than they had any right to be. They brushed lightly against Andy’s and, once she realized that Andy was not pulling away, pressed more insistently against her. It was all the permission either of them needed.

 

The robe was discarded between them as their bodies came together in a collision of need that surpassed anything that either had been expecting. Andy groaned at the feel of Miranda’s tongue against her lips and felt powerless to do anything but allow Miranda to slip inside her mouth. Their tongues met and Andy felt sure that she would never survive the intensity of this erotically charged embrace.

 

It was Miranda who broke the kiss first, tearing her lips away so that she could draw in a ragged breath. Her eyes, glazed over and smoldering, focused on Andy’s wet mouth, memorizing the smudged lipstick and swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Andy bit her lip and Miranda leaned forward, capturing the lip between her own teeth. Her hands slid from Andy’s waist, curved down her hips, and rounded her ass, cupping her cheeks and drawing her in closer. Andy gasped and her eyelids fluttered when Miranda began to worry her lip in her mouth.

 

“Oooh,” Andy cooed, her hands gripping Miranda’s shoulders. Her heart pounded mercilessly against her chest and she clenched her fingers tighter against Miranda, worried that she might altogether lose her ability to stand upright.

 

“Oh God, Miranda,” Andy said when the fashionista fastened her lips to Andy’s throat. “What are we doing?”

 

“What does it look like?” Miranda replied before sucking harshly at Andy’s neck.

 

She moaned loudly in response. “Ooh…Mir—I’m not doing this for money…”

 

“I have no intention of paying you.” Miranda’s hands slipped beneath the silk of her panties. She palmed and squeezed the globes of Andy’s ass.

 

Andy issued a sigh of relief at the admission; knowing this wasn’t just a business transaction heightened her enjoyment level immensely. Feeling less like a prop, Andy eased her fingers into Miranda’s hair, weaving them amongst the silver strands. She enjoyed the crinkle of hairspray and mussed the iconic ‘do with a grin. Miranda gave a dissatisfied grunt at Andy’s ministrations but did not disengage from Andy’s neck long enough to tell her off.

 

“Is this…unh…” Andy gasped as she felt Miranda’s hands let go of her ass in favor of unclasping the garters at the backs of her thighs. Her dexterous fingers made a quick, easy job of it. “Is this…about you not getting your, um…ooohyes...escort? Or is it…?”

 

Miranda pulled away then and looked at Andy, her brow knit together. “Are you always this chatty during sex?”

 

Oh God. She was really going to have sex with Miranda Priestly. Andy’s sex clenched tightly. “No, I just…is this about wanting me or just a warm female body?”

 

The older woman raised an eyebrow. “You’re here, Andrea. No one else.”

 

Andy frowned. “Yea, but it wasn’t me that you—“

 

“I want _you_ ,” Miranda said, punctuating the final word with a lascivious once-over. “Please stop talking and let me have you.”

 

Andy nodded dumbly and fused their mouths together once more, teasing the tip of her tongue playfully against Miranda’s. She swirled it and felt her knees buckle at how quickly Miranda’s tongue took control. She wondered just know skilled Miranda was with her tongue and nearly came at the thought.

 

Miranda’s agile fingers eased around her thighs and released the final two hooks of her garter. Andy sighed against Miranda’s mouth as her head swam with dizzy thoughts: was this a bad idea? was Miranda using her? would they regret this in the morning, or when it was over?

 

The older woman raked her nails up the length of her abdomen, scratching against the satin fabric of the corset before she cupped Andy’s breasts through the demi-cups, and Andy stopped thinking. She nearly swallowed her own tongue when Miranda’s hand tugged at the left cup and exposed Andy’s nipple.

 

Miranda let out a sound remarkably similar to a growl before she leant her head to capture the nipple between her lips. Andy blinked several times, her lips still parted in shock, as she watched Miranda’s tongue lap at her breast. She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat and failed, gaping and moaning instead as Miranda began to suck. Andy clutched at the back of her former-employer’s head, kneading her fingers at the back of her scalp. She let out a yelp as Miranda pawed at her other breast, pulling it free from the miniscule confines of the corset and pinching it between her thumb and index finger. Andy hissed.

 

As Miranda switched breasts she began to push Andy back against the bed. When her calves connected with the mattress, she gasped. “Oh my God…”

 

“I don’t believe he’s present,” Miranda mumbled, sucking harshly at Andy’s puckered, sensitive flesh.

 

Andy’s giggle was lost in her throat.

 

“Lay down,” Miranda ordered. She apparently did not trust Andy to comply with her wishes and gave her hips a little shove, catching Andy off guard. She fell back onto the mattress with an oomph and stared up at the mischievous glint in Miranda’s eye. The woman looked ready to devour her. She shivered and scooted back, watching as Miranda pulled her white blouse over her head.

 

To Andy’s chagrin, her mouth dropped at the sight of Miranda’s breasts, clad in a nude-colored strapless bra. It wasn’t like Andy had never seen a scantily-clad woman before—it just had never done anything for her. But seeing Miranda Priestly—the woman who formerly issued her paychecks—was another matter altogether. Andy’s eyes skittered over Miranda’s flushed torso, taking in the sight of the swell of Miranda’s breasts and the flat expanse of her abdomen.

 

“Wow,” Andy muttered, her face burning as Miranda’s fingers began to unbutton her pinstriped pants. “You’re…”

 

“Yes?” Miranda asked, slowly easing down the zipper. She smirked at Andy’s speechlessness and eased her slacks down her hips, allowing them to pool at her feet.

 

Andy had strung together a variety of adjectives that weren’t worthy of Miranda’s beauty—stunning, exquisite, gorgeous—but forgot them as soon as her eyes focused on Miranda’s lacy nude g-string. “Wow,” she repeated.

 

Miranda grinned, apparently pleased, and crawled onto the bed, settling her body over Andy’s. She knelt above her on all fours, not touching her at all. Andy’s body arched towards her. “Is that all you can say?”

 

Andy nodded, leaned up, and kissed her again, threading her arms around Miranda’s neck. Miranda allowed herself to be drawn down against the journalist, taking special care in rubbing her breasts against Andy’s. Andy moaned again.

 

Miranda pulled away, dropping light kisses along the curve of Andy’s jaw. She once more returned to her throat, sucking harshly at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Andy knew she’d have one hell of a hickey in the morning and found she didn’t care, sighing instead as Miranda sucked and bit and laved with her tongue. Miranda’s hand slid down her torso, plucking at her nipple before smoothing the flat of her palm across the satin of the corset. Andy briefly wondered if Miranda had a lingerie fetish but the thought was fleeting as she felt Miranda’s finger nimbly catch the tie of the bow on the right side of her hip. She pulled at it at a languorous pace and sighed when it was released.

 

Andy felt her mind go fuzzy when Miranda began to once again tease her breasts. It seemed that she couldn’t get enough; Andy couldn’t blame her. She watched the sway of Miranda’s breasts as they threatened to spill from her bra and wished that they would. She wanted to see them, wanted to taste them, but before Andy could reach around Miranda’s back to fumble with clasp, Miranda shifted her body lower.

 

Miranda snaked her tongue along the clasps of the corset and hummed her delight when she reached the bottom. She kissed beneath it, scattering kisses over Andy’s abdomen. Andy squirmed and sighed, hardly daring to believe that Miranda’s mouth was so close to where she so desperately wanted it.

 

Miranda looked up at her then, her eyes reflective of the hunger that consumed them both, and grinned. Andy watched, scarcely able to breathe, as Miranda’s teeth captured the other bow that held together her panties. She tugged, drawing her head back just enough to release it from its knot. Andy could feel it give and gave a helpless moan when Miranda uncovered her sex.

 

She began to shake then, spreading her thighs slightly as Miranda settled in between them. Her mind reeled at the visual before her. She had somehow expected this to last longer, had expected that foreplay with Miranda could last for hours, and trembled at the knowledge that Miranda simply could not wait to taste her. _Miranda wanted her_. What would come of this? What was she doing?

 

As Miranda began to kiss the inside of her thigh, Andy stammered, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 

“It’s a very, very good idea.”

 

“But…M’randa…are you sure—“

 

Miranda looked up again, narrowing her eyes angrily at her. “Is there a problem, Andrea?”

 

“It’s just…is this a good idea?” she repeated, biting her lip.

 

“I was under the impression that you wanted me. Am I wrong?”

 

Andy shook her head and, to verify, Miranda slipped her fingers through Andy’s impossibly wet folds. She clamped her eyes shut and whined.

 

“It would seem that you do want me.”

 

“I do…I do, Miranda.”

 

“Then please,” she kissed the trimmed patch of brown hair, “stop,” she kissed lower, right at the juncture of Andy’s nether lips, “talking.” At the culmination of her request, Miranda’s tongue slid between her folds and stroked lazily over her clit.

 

Andy’s entire body gave a jolt at the first touch of Miranda’s tongue and Miranda slapped a hand onto her abdomen to hold her in place. She worked slowly, as if they had all night (did they?), teasing and tasting every corner of her sex. She swirled around her opening and flicked inside, eliciting a sharp cry from Andy’s lips, before she pressed against Andy’s perineum. She repeated her motions, changing her patterns and fucking her so thoroughly that Andy felt she may lose her mind from the extent of her pleasure.

 

“What are you doing to me?” Andy whispered, reaching back to clutch at the bedspread. She coiled it within her fists, holding on tightly as she rocked her body against Miranda’s face. Miranda said nothing and simply hummed, the vibration of her voice heightening the sensation around her clit. “Miranda…”

 

Miranda’s fingers roved her stomach, her nails scratching against the corset. She seemed to delight in the feel of it against her fingers, as well as the scratch of Andy’s nylons against her body. Her hand dipped below the lingerie, searching out more of Andy’s flesh, and she grumbled at the lack of access. To Andy’s surprise and displeasure, Miranda pulled back and growled, “Get this off.”

 

Andy blinked several times, staring at the sight of Miranda’s come-covered chin, before she set to unhooking the corset. Her weak, shaking arms fumbled with each little hook, pausing every few minutes when Miranda did something amazing with her tongue. When the final hook was released and the halves of the corset drooped open, Andy sucked in a deep breath and fully arched her back.

 

Miranda’s hand swept over Andy’s stomach, tracing the indentations left by the boning of the corset. She slid over Andy’s ribcage and reached for her breast, palming it as she vigorously swirled her tongue around Andy’s clit.

 

The combination of sensations had little explosions going off in Andy’s head. She tilted her head back and drew in quick, ragged breaths and clutched at the duvet and dug her heels into the mattress. Miranda’s tongue skillfully fucked her within an inch of her life and when Andy came, she had no idea if she would recover.

 

Her entire body convulsed in long, pulsating waves. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the surreal acknowledgment that Miranda Priestly had given her the best orgasm she’d ever had, and maybe that she was a little bit gay now, and that maybe she might altogether stop breathing.

 

Somewhere very far away, Andy felt a hand soothing along her hip. She floated high above herself, not ready to return to the body that had all but gone numb, but she did. She uncurled her toes, released her death grip on the comforter, and closed her mouth. She blinked back the fuzziness that clouded her vision and, very slowly, began to grin.

 

Miranda kissed her way up her belly, pausing to devote several lazy moments to her breasts, before she finally reached Andy’s mouth. She traced Andy’s plump bottom lip with her finger. “Do you believe me now?”

 

Andy nodded and pulled Miranda in for a long, searing kiss. She snuck a taste of herself on Miranda’s tongue. “Mmm…” She pulled away and smiled at the older woman, tucking aside a loose lock of her hair. “You’re good at this.”

 

“Does that surprise you?” Miranda asked with a smirk. She teased her finger in random patterns around Andy’s stomach.

 

“I guess it shouldn’t, given the number of ladies you’ve probably hooked up with.”

 

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Why are you so fascinated with my sex life?”

 

“Well….because it’s fascinating.”

 

“Why? I’m hardly clamoring to entertain the possibilities of your sexual conquests.”

 

“You’re Miranda Priestly…you practically own the whole fashion world…you could have anyone you want and so it’s mind-boggling that you want girls. Escorts no less.”

 

Miranda rolled her eyes again.

 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that.”

 

“It will have been no fault of mine,” Miranda replied with a huff, sitting up. She shifted on her knees, picking at an imaginary fuzz on the wrinkled sheets.

 

Andy laughed and sat up with her, kissing Miranda’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

 

“Hmpf.”

 

“Don’t be grumpy.”

 

“I’ll be whatever I like.”

 

“You haven’t even gotten off yet.”

 

“I am well aware.”

 

Andy suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach. It was all fine and dandy to flirt with Miranda and allude to sex, but she knew that Miranda wouldn’t want to talk for much longer. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She took a deep breath and decided that she wasn’t going to let herself be shown up by a bunch of girls who got paid to do it. She genuinely wanted to fuck Miranda and make her come, and she was damn well going to do it.

 

Andy shifted her body, coming to kneel behind Miranda. She leaned forward and kissed the nape of Miranda’s neck and did it again when the older woman visibly shuddered. “I know that maybe you’re a little annoyed with me…” Andy said, teasing her fingertips gently against the goosepimpled flesh of Miranda’s arms. “I always did seem to have that effect on you.” She paused to suck on Miranda’s shoulder.

 

“Yes,” Miranda replied, her voice unsteady.

 

The brunette grinned. “But you like it, don’t you? You like that I can get under your skin.”

 

Miranda said nothing and simply trembled under Andy’s touch. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as difficult as Andy thought.

 

When Andy’s trek concluded once she reached Miranda’s hands she slid hers to Miranda’s waist, curving forward to caress Miranda’s belly. She swirled her finger around Miranda’s navel. “Sometimes,” Andy continued, cupping Miranda’s breasts, “I tend to overthink something and when I do, I miss out on some glaringly obvious details.” She squeezed the mounds of flesh in her hand, loving their weight as they strained against the scratchy texture of the bra. She could feel the pebbled hardness of Miranda’s nipples and she moaned softly into Miranda’s ear. “Does that ever happen to you?”

 

Miranda shook her head, denying the comment.

 

Andy gave a smug, shit-eating grin at the knowledge that she had managed to shut Miranda up. She scooted closer, brushing her own nipples against Miranda’s back, and rocked her hips against Miranda’s ass. Miranda sighed. As Andy pinched Miranda’s nipples through the bra, she licked the shell of the woman’s ear and continued, “Wanna know what I think? I think there’s a reason why you were so specific about what you wanted your escort to look like.”

 

Miranda hissed when Andy nipped at her earlobe.

 

One of Andy’s hands came back between them and worked at the double clasp of Miranda’s bra. To her immense relief she only fumbled for a brief moment before it slithered down Miranda’s stomach. Once freed, Miranda’s breasts were at Andy’s disposal. She palmed them, rolling them around before squeezing. She could hear Miranda’s quickened breath and so she continued, stroking her fingers around the smooth flesh. “I think, deep down, you’ve always wanted me.”

 

Miranda gasped a little, her hands reaching behind to grasp Andy’s hips.

 

“I think you’ve fantasized about me before...” Andy gave a pinch to each of Miranda’s nipples before twisting them between her fingers. Miranda howled and Andy felt a renewed desire at discovering that Miranda liked it a little rough. “Haven’t you?”

 

Miranda made a sound that was neither a confirmation nor a denial; she simply dug her nails into Andy’s skin and tipped her head back against her shoulder.

 

Andy chucked, releasing one breast so that she could smooth the flat of her palm against Miranda’s belly. She relished the feel of Miranda’s quivering stomach as she neared the apex of her thighs and cooed softly into Miranda’s ear. “Did it feel good to finally have me?” She raked her nails over Miranda’s g-string, scratching the lace against Miranda’s mound. “I think you enjoyed eating me right up, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Miranda hissed, shifting her hips to encourage Andy’s continued journey towards her sex.

 

“Does it feel good to finally have my hands on you?” She squeezed Miranda’s breast at the same time she fully cupped her sex. Miranda groaned.

 

“You…” Miranda panted. Her chest heaved against Andy’s hand. “You talk too much.”

 

Andy laughed and nipped at Miranda’s neck. “You like it.” She stroked her fingers against Miranda’s engorged lips through the thin layer of her barely-there panties, her breath hitching in her throat as she realized how wet Miranda really was. She had been teasing Miranda, hoping to hide how nervous she was by projecting a confident flirtation, and it shocked her to discover that she could have been right. The very thought that Miranda really _did_ want— _had_ wanted—her blew her mind and made her even more nervous.

 

Miranda’s breathy sighs snapped Andy out of her reverie. She’d never been with a woman before and had no idea what to do to please her. She took a deep breath and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to do to Miranda what she did to herself. She continued to tease her, massaging her hand against Miranda’s labia. She was so incredibly wet that it didn’t take long for Andy’s hand to become coated in her arousal. “You really want this, don’t you?” Andy asked, peering down to look at the evidence of Miranda’s arousal encasing the entirety of her palm.

 

Miranda nodded and, to Andy’s immense satisfaction, hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her panties and drew them down her legs. She managed to rise on her knees long enough to slip her leg through them and when she resumed her position, it was with her legs on either side of Andy’s, giving her wider access.

 

“Wow,” Andy mumbled, and replaced her hand. Here, without the tiny wisp of fabric between them, Miranda was a furnace, emitting so much heat that Andy wondered if she might be reduced to a pile of cinder and ash. She didn’t dare slide between Miranda’s folds—not yet. Miranda had all but devoured her as if she’d been forced to endure famine, but Andy would take her time. She would draw Miranda to the brink and hold her there until neither of them could stand it any longer. She shuddered in anticipation.

 

Andy worked her index and middle fingers carefully inside Miranda’s slit, gently caressing the hardened shaft of her clit. Miranda bucked against her and Andy continued, stroking it softly before she parted her fingers on either side of it and continued to stroke downward, bypassing the swollen, sensitive head of her clit. Miranda whimpered and squeezed at Andy’s hips, her own hips rocking ever-so-slightly in time with Andy’s movements.

 

Enchanted by the power she had, Andy took her time in exploring Miranda’s most intimate, private place, feeling as though she’d just been crowned Queen of the Universe to be privileged enough to be there. She secretly loved this, loved discovering that Miranda’s entrance was extremely sensitive, loved discovering that she smelled like bittersweet honey, and especially loved discovering what sounds she made when Andy varied the speed and pressure of her fingers.

 

With the gentlest brush of her thumb, Andy caressed Miranda’s clit. Miranda arched her hips into the touch, seeking more of the pleasure that Andy had given her. Andy grinned and did it again. She loved the involuntary jerk of Miranda’s body in response to her ministrations and continued to tease her in the lightest of strokes.

 

Miranda tilted her head and caught Andy’s mouth. The angle did not allow for the sort of deep kiss that either had been looking for, but Andy eased her mouth over Miranda’s and allowed the other woman to lead her. Miranda’s tongue flicked over her lips as one of her hands released Andy’s hip and came to the back of her head, tangling her fingers in her hair while they kissed. Andy moaned and shifted her fingers, bringing three to massage tight little circles over the top of Miranda’s clit.

 

The two began to rock together, their bodies rhythmically swaying in time with Andy’s hand. She experimentally worked her fingers from side to side and up and down, realizing that Miranda responded most favorably to the circular motions. She returned to that, dipping her fingers lower to gather more of Miranda’s arousal. She moved languidly, effortlessly drawing little “aahs” and “oohs” from Miranda’s mouth. It was addicting; Andy felt herself becoming obsessed with the way their bodies fit together, with the sheen of sweat that had built up between them, with the way Miranda seemed to love it just as much as she did. Her middle finger pressed down against the hardened peak of her clit with each downstroke and Miranda moaned louder before finally issuing a strangled, “Faster!”

 

Andy complied, working her fingers more quickly. Their bodies began to undulate faster as well, with Andy’s hips working up against Miranda’s ass. Her mind briefly flashed to the idea of fucking Miranda from behind with a strap on and, face burning, she wondered if she’d ever get the chance.

 

“Yesyesyes,” Miranda hissed, tightening her grip on Andy’s body. Andy could feel the other woman begin to tremble harder and wondered if she were about to—

 

Miranda came, convulsing so hard and so quick against Andy’s hand that she momentarily wondered if she had broken her. A surge of wetness soaked her fingers and Miranda’s head, tilted back against Andy’s shoulder, shook back and forth. Andy kept moving her fingers, loving the feel of each slowing jolt of Miranda’s clit. For all of Miranda’s cries and moans, her orgasm was vocalized by heavy breaths and pants. Her mouth was fixed open but no sound came forth, as if she had been too shocked by the force of her orgasm to remember to moan.

 

Andy clenched her thighs together, selfishly hoping that they weren’t finished. She pushed her own desires aside as Miranda slumped back against her, her hands loosening as she lazily draped her body against Andy’s. Andy slid her arms around Miranda’s waist and held her close as she pressed a kiss against Miranda’s sweat-dampened temple. They stayed like this for several long, quiet moments until Andy felt Miranda shiver against her.

 

“Wanna get under the covers?” she asked, kissing Miranda’s jaw. Miranda nodded, and the two silently separated, drew down the comforter and sheets, and slid beneath them. Andy’s stomach flip-flopped when Miranda sidled up against her and threw her arm over her belly.

 

“So…” Andy ventured after several more silent moments.

 

Miranda laughed, her warm breath skittering across Andy’s shoulder. “You simply can’t help _but_ talk, can you?”

 

Andy laughed in spite of herself. “I guess not. But there’s a lot to talk about, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“Such as?”

 

Andy sifted through the endless list of questions floating in her brain and she plucked at the one foremost in her mind. “Did you really want me before tonight?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Elaborate please.”

 

“I never consciously looked at you and thought ‘I must have her,’ but I would be lying if I said that I never found you attractive.”

 

Andy blushed and suppressed a smirk. “Am I your type, Miranda?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that I have a type.”

 

“Have you been with a lot of women?” Andy asked. She wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know the answer but then decided that the possible answer was far too intriguing to ignore for the sake of silly jealousy of former lovers.

 

“My fair share.”

 

“Do you like women _and_ men, or just—“ Miranda raised an eyebrow and glared and Andy snapped her mouth shut. “Sorry,” Andy mumbled. She was quiet for several minutes before she spoke again. “How many escorts have you actually been with?”

 

Miranda’s withering stare did not distract Andy.

 

“For my article! How many notches does my anonymous source have on her bedpost?” Andy pretended to hold out a microphone.

 

The expression on Miranda’s face was guarded, more guarded than Andy had seen it throughout the entire evening. Just when she suspected that Miranda wouldn’t answer, she spoke. “Technically, none.”

 

“Wait…what?”

 

Miranda pursed her lips and propped her head on her hand, peering at Andy through guarded eyes. “I’ve hired an escort once before, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

 

“So why did you spend all night telling me that you had?”

 

Miranda gave a noncommittal shrug of her shoulder and rolled onto her back, resting her head against the down pillow.

 

Andy furrowed her brow and look down at the woman who exasperated her more than anyone she’d ever met. She was mysterious and evasive and completely frustrating, but Andy simply laughed. “Well well, guess I was _your_ first, huh?”

 

“And I was yours,” Miranda shot back, the corner of her mouth twitching into a wry smile as Andy blushed at the words.

 

“So you were.”

 

Miranda cleared her throat and turned into Andy’s body, kissing softly beneath her jaw. “I have this room all night,” she whispered.

 

Andy shuddered. “Wanna go to sleep?”

 

“No.”

 

Andy groaned and covered Miranda’s mouth with her own, kissing her softly. She felt less rushed and insistent now that she knew she had all night. As Miranda’s hand began to explore her body, Andy momentarily wondered what the hell she was going to do for her article now that her “source” had turned out to be something…different.

 

It didn’t really matter, not at that moment anyway. She’d still write a kick ass story and she’d still earn her promotion. With a little shiver of excitement, Andy wondered if she’d walk away from this experience with something—someone-- a little more special than a fancy new title.

 

She couldn’t wait to find out.

 

\---

 


End file.
